A Long Time Coming
by 4everdead
Summary: Many years have passed since the death of Violet and her family leaving Violet feeling bitter and stuck. Can murderhouse's new guests bring light back into the home's darkness? Will Tate ever be able to redeem himself?
1. Chapter 1

The upstairs smelled like pennies.

I spent the afternoon lounging in a pool of death in the upstairs bathtub. I would cut carefully and heal. Sporadically and heal. The tub would be left red with blood from a source long dead and I felt nothing for the hours I would waste this way. The bathtub offered a memory to cut to without the presence of the boy I once shared it with. People stopped bothering me during these sessions. I remember calling "GO AWAY" until my voice was hoarse and unfamiliar to my family and Tate. Lately I'd spent my days in quiet living slowly.

It had been many years and I had lost track when the outside world had paid less visits to my home. Standing in front of the mirror I still saw a girl, not the woman that I felt I had been for a long time. I wanted to see a crack, a dent, a hint of something. I wanted a badge of wisdom and time spent. The smoothness before me felt a lie.

I toweled off and lit a cigarette, smoke disappearing into the steam from the hot water draining. I opened the door to our room…I mean my room. It smelled of him and the scuffs that had built up on the windowsill over the years confirmed his presence. He was a ghost among ghosts these days living unseen. I hadn't seen him in so long, just a ruffled sheet, a quickly erased letter on the chalk board, or a scuffed windowsill.

Maybe someday I'll be lonely enough to call out to him, but for now I lingered in quiet toleration as many of the murder house's guests did.

Our altercations in the first year after I confronted him had set a tone that left him afraid of another face to face heartbreak. The last of them was in the basement.

"I love you violet. I love you! Tell me how to fix this. PLEASE?" He wept into my sweater, tugging with white knuckles on the bottom of it as he sunk to his knees.

"You love me?" I asked coldly.

"of cour-" He began to choke out.

"You're an ugly hearted monster Tate! You don't know how to love." I yelled as I tried to yank sweater out of his hands.

"No, no please" He cried into me, his usual handsome face was ugly, twisted and red from crying. I felt that they had become real, but the monster I saw in him couldn't have left. The monster he was, that he is, couldn't win this time.

"You're nothing but darkness. You deserve to rot here" I called and I struck his wet face with all that my small hand had.

"NO! Wait. Please Violet! Don't-" He pleaded into my sweater muffled and choking.

"GO AWAY!" I screamed. He disappeared as my command echoed through the basement. I was left then with a catch in my throat and a wet sweater.

I cried then like a child. I cried until I felt nothing more in me and I climbed those stairs upward for the last time, disappearing before he continued his banishment where I stood.

That memory wasn't my proudest moment. He had been trying to prove himself to me so constantly and so soon that I came at him with the kind of rage that I had feared to find in him.

I took another puff from my cigarette watching the street from the scuffed sill. It didn't matter now. Our love had become so distant; it was very possible that it had never existed at all.

We were expecting new guests soon and I wanted to scope them out as I usually did. With new people I came to expect a little life to come back for a month or two until they would surely run away. They always ran away in horror of the things that lurked in the home. There had been a unspoken law in the house after the death of the Harmon family. No more Murder. Not out of kindness, the turning of a new leaf, or some respect for life. The house despite its size was becoming crowded. While the majority of the angry, sad, and lost residents had confined themselves to the basement it was agreed that another permanent guest would be unwanted by all.

I watched as my parents stood in the lawn as a moving truck halted in the driveway. An old gray woman and her sickly husband seemed to be the new residents. The older woman smiled up her new place and helped her husband get inside. She had a kind face and soft eyes the kind I would imagine a loving grandmother to have. The man seemed lost, moving slowly with a walker. Movers followed behind them with heavy ornate furniture asking the kind faced woman where she wanted her things placed. From the sounds downstairs they didn't seem very careful.


	2. Chapter 2

(Tates POV)

As a Child I thought that people fell in love at the same time, that feelings were always mutual. Love wasn't supposed to hurt. Love was supposed to end all hurt; be a kindness always. I also thought that forever was a boring day dragging onward. Nora had told me once that life was too short for so much sorrow. How wrong she was in her hazy state.

I felt the steam slipping under the bathroom door. It rose around my red chucks with an unfitting lightness from an unspeakable nightmare. I had screamed at her from the door the first few times. I had pounded on that door until my fist bled. She would only send me away. Today I stood outside with her promise to me broken repeatedly, angrily, and selfishly. It hurts too much to stay.

I sat on the windowsill as I often did. It had been my room once and then hers. Maybe it had been ours for a short time. No. I shouldn't think that way.

I had stayed in the basement for a long time. I'm sure that she and the other ghosts dwelling above it thought I still occupied it. Truth be told it was an ugly place. I wanted someone to come for me, to save me. No one ever came around for me besides a cruel Hayden or a hazy Nora.

Maybe I did deserve this.

The door slammed in the hall and I disappeared from view and from her room. I didn't need to embarrass myself further in this house.

I walked where her cigarette smoke had settled. The smell while unpleasant was distinctly hers. It used to hang in her clothes, hair, and breath like a death wish. The stirring downstairs interrupted my thoughts.

I didn't appreciate new guests. I didn't like worrying about new families. Always there were awful teen boys that Violet toyed with, babies that left the basement's residents crazed, and young rich women a few decades away from becoming my mother. Ughh Constance that bitch.

The old couple downstairs was unexpected. I didn't see how they could be strong enough for this place. I don't think the old man could even get up the stairs.

"Another new arrival without an ounce of taste. What a damn shame" Chad mused behind me. I only gave him silence; uninterested in him entirely. He sighed and headed out to the lawn to inspect the gaudy furniture and the young men carrying it in.

* * *

The next morning was bright and warm. I heard some noise in the study and decided to lend it some of my attention. The old woman was trying to move and open some heavy boxes with her small wrinkled hands in the study. She was clearly struggling and moving slowly huffing and puffing as she slid them closer to the shelves.

"Would you like some help?" I asked cautiously catching a nasty glare from Moira who'd yet to make herself known to the new guests. She didn't trust me. She never trusted me, but I suppose I never gave her reason to. Maybe she's just upset that the man of the house is too old for her "talents." The thought was too much for me not to send a smirk her way.

"OH!" The old woman jolted upward dropping a book to the ground.

"I didn't mean to startle you!" I blurted out quickly, but she still seemed upset.

"Who – Who are you?" She asked nervously stepping backward.

"I'm Tate – from next door. My Grandma sent me over to welcome you to the neighborhood. I saw the door open and didn't think." I strung together. Grandma? Ha. Well It would be less believable if I were to call her mother now. Constance didn't age well over the last few years between the cigarettes and that monster in the house.

"Nice to meet you Tate. You can call me Hazel." Her face relaxed and I walked over to pick up the book that she had dropped. Painting Garden Birds by Sherry C. Nelson. I smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time.

"I like birds too" I said handing the book back to her.

The boxes were filled with books on nature, animals, and art. I was happy to listen to her talk about the birds and the plants and the life outside of the house; far away in a forest somewhere. I unpacked with her taking it in. I felt some eyes on me from the more cautious house ghosts, but I continued unafraid. I continued onward until the whole room was done.

"Oh dear, now you don't want to be worrying your dear grandmother. You go along now." She said sweetly.

"I'm sure she's fine. I can help you with another room." I replied.

"Now Tate how about you just come on back tomorrow instead. I'm sure that Walter will need me soon anyway. You be sure to tell your grandmother I said hello." She explained. At the mention of his name she seemed to droop as though a heavy weight had been placed onto the back of her floral sweater.

"Well if you insist. I'll get going." I said with a small smile and pretended to leave. Oh if I only could…

I watched her as she went to look after Walter. I assumed she was his wife. She was careful on her way up the stairs to see him and as I climbed up with her I smelled Violet's cigarette smoke hanging like a cloud.


	3. Chapter 3

(Violet's POV)

I had been trying to do some reading on my laptop. The people moving in and out of the house would typically discard the things I had tried to keep with me. Often my books were boxed and left by the side of the road as garbage with nothing that I could do to rescue them. E-books weren't so bad. I'd been lucky enough to have lived in a world where you barely had to leave your house in the first place. The internet made life easier and a little less hellish and trapped.

"OH!" I heard someone yell from downstairs. Whoever it was seemed more frightened than angry. It startled me and I lost my place on the page. I half expected to see Chad and Patrick fighting again as they usually did. Chad's rage hadn't died down despite death. He let his bitterness brew instead into an anger that he did little to repress.

Instead I saw him for the first time in a long time. The older woman looked horrified and I waited to see the monster in action. I needed to see it for myself this time.

"Who – Who are you?" She asked nervously stepping away from him in fear. Why the fuck would he make himself visible to her?

"I'm Tate – from next door. My Grandma sent me over to welcome you to the neighborhood. I saw the door open and didn't think." Tate blurted out.

Another lie. He really can't help himself can he? I turned to leave, unable to watch him string together more lies. I had hoped that perhaps deep down he had begun to change, but people never do. He seemed content in his selfishness and harm.

I settled back into my room. It was still mine which was unusual. I couldn't imagine why Hazel and her husband wanted this huge home to themselves. With her husband's difficulties getting around I thought they belonged in a nursing home; at least he did.

I woke up with my laptop still on my bed a few hours later. I figured a cup of tea with Moira or my mom would wake me up a little. He was still down there with Hazel though. That was unexpected. I pulled out a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and lit it up while I waited for him to leave.

They spoke by the door Instead and both came up the stairs. She didn't seem to notice him and made sure that neither of them noticed me. He followed behind her and I was worried for the woman. He had to be up to something.

"…Walter?" She asked softly opening the door. He didn't answer.

"Walter." She said louder. This time he looked up her and narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?" He croaked out.

Hazel took a deep breath before she replied. "It's me…."  
"I don't know you!" He called out angrily and followed it up with a hacking cough into a crumpled and crusty napkin.

"I'm your wife Hazel. We've been married for a long time Walter and-" She tried to explain to him through the hurt visible on her face.

"Where am I?" he interrupted clearly frightened.

"We just bought this house Walter. It's home."

"WHO ARE YOU?!" He yelled to her as he tried to get up. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Hazel closed the door behind her quickly and left silently with tears building in her eyes. She walked past me and down the stairs and I thought I would leave it for her and give her some space rather than use the kitchen myself. Perhaps in time she would find a friend in Moira like my mother had.

I looked around for Tate just to see him but he must have disappeared sometime while the scene had taken place. Whatever. I didn't need to see his lying face anyway.

* * *

(Tates POV)

I watched from inside the room as the old man lashed out at Hazel. Her bright face fell at his words. It was hard to watch her but I could tell by her replies that she had had this conversation with him before; maybe even a few times. It smelled like a hospital there already. Cleaning products and sickness filled up the room in an awful manner smothering me.

Hazel left in tears at his request and the old man coughed into his disgusting napkin again before leaving it on what was once Dr. Harmon's end table. I felt then that Hazel and I may have had more in common than I thought. I contemplated for the right thing to say and waited until I knew she was out of earshot.

"So Walter... That's your name right? Why would you say something like that?" I asked with a smirk as I sat on the other side of the bed.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat.

"Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"Are you my son?" He asked simply.

"God damn it. No. I'm not your son Walter. You have a nice wife downstairs. Why don't you go say sorry." I said to him simply. It was becoming frustrating.

"Where am I?" Walter asked clearly confused as he looked around the room.

He looked to me for an answer and I got off the bed then. He was a lost cause. A burden that belonged in some nursing home; not here with Hazel.


	4. Chapter 4

(Tate's POV)

I considered smothering Walter. I would take the pillow from behind his head and before he could think I would be pressing down with all my strength. He'd try to call out I'd imagine. No one would hear him. I'd then press harder; maybe hard enough to push his false teeth to the back of his throat. Just enough to leave the pink adhesive clinging to the pillowcase. No I'm not supposed to be that guy. Not anymore.

I couldn't resist everything though, even when I tried. Constance always thought I was weak. Bitch. I had to help myself. I eyed the vast array of prescriptions on the dresser instead. Some damn good shit. Amphetamines, pain killers, some anti-depressants, and a few bottles of cough medicine for some milder fun. I could use a little more spice in my life. Surely he wouldn't notice a few missing uppers and oxy. I opened up a few of the bottles and took enough for a good time. The anti-depressants could be useful. God knows it got difficult around here. I went to take a few of those and saw that Hazel's name was on the sticker label. I guess that made sense. I'd imagine that taking care of your husband the way you would a toddler would crush the spirit out of most people. The thought of it made me want to retch. I put the cap back on her bottle opting to skip over those and looked at Walter's pillow again with a glint of mischief in my eyes. Hesitating before I downed a few pills and closed the door quietly behind me. I didn't mind being a disappointment again I deserved this treat. I deserved- well I can't. I'm not- Uggh.

I headed down to the basement and waited while my heart began to beat out of my chest. It felt damn good. It was a kind of primal intensity spreading through my dead body. I felt my temperature rise and I began to take off my shirt. I rose to the top of the world sweat beading on my chest and I spun together an idea in my head as I scratched at my hands.

* * *

I woke up soaked in sweat by the gazebo sick to my stomach; dead and dry heaving into a carefully maintained hedge. I felt like shit crawling back into the house. I'd have to clean myself off in that goddamned bathtub again. I avoided it as often as I could; leaving me maybe a little too grungy for my own good.

I ran the hot water and stripped down naked. The mirror revealed some marks on my arms and chest. They weren't deep and like all the bodily wounds in this house they would heal just fine. The hot water felt good, but the memories here left me holding back tears again. I'm supposed to be a man. "Stop it." I scolded myself. I had a weak heart and mind and no will to fight it as I heaved again with nothing in my stomach to lose.

I let the water drain and picked at the marks on my arms before putting on my oversized sweater. It smelled like cigarettes outside. The scent teased me at it often did and I followed it to the open door of my- her bedroom. I didn't see the clean bedroom and familiar belongings. It was half empty and the chalkboard was cracked.

I felt suddenly very conscious of myself as though I were being watched. I hadn't felt fear in a long time. It was striking and cold, creeping up my spine. The smoke had drifted out of the hallway and into nothing. I noticed all of her; always and from a distance. My keen eyes weren't open to surprises like this.

I looked around in the quiet of the room and reached out to the blackboard.

"GO AWAY!" Came a screech from the door. Her voice was raw, cruel, and terrified. I tried to look at her and found myself on the basement floor confused and angry.

"Oh boohoo no more fun for you." Hayden teased looking down at me.

"I don't have time for your shit Hayden." I replied coldly.

"Come on crazy eyes let's go for round two I'm into it. You know how being dead gets me hot." Her voice got breathy and heavy as she ran her hand through my hair.

"Round two? Fuck off Hayden." I smacked her hand away and headed to the basement door.

"Not so fast. You OWE me Tate." She called out. I kept walking. Since when did I owe her a damn thing. In fact she didn't exist as far as I was concerned. She wasn't my type and every word that came out of her face was useless. "I matter!" She screamed. I stifled a laugh and slammed the basement door.

Hayden appeared before me with her face twisted up and snarling "I want the rest of the pills Tate." I felt sick to my stomach again. Fuck.

"Hello?!" I heard Hazel call out and suddenly I was alone in the kitchen. "What's all this noise? Walter?" she called out again and I heard her coming towards the kitchen. So I scrambled to stand outside the open door instead.

"Good morning Hazel." I greeted her with a smile forced through the fear on my face.

" Oh are you here to help me unpack today?" She asked sweetly.

"I sure am." I replied as I stepped back into the house. I noticed her messing with her hearing aid. "Are you alright?" I asked to strike up some conversation and keep Hayden away.

"I think I need to get it checked. I've been hearing noises all over this house." She replied absently.

"Sound travels strangely in old homes." I replied.


	5. Chapter 5

(Tate's pov)

"There are only two ways to make cookies." Hazel said matter-o-factly from the kitchen. "With love or with measuring cups." she let out a small laugh and the sweet, warm scent of shortbread wafted my way. It seemed that she found comfort in cooking like a nervous habit. There would be enough for all of the home's occupants by the time she was done. While she baked away I started to unpack the boxes in the next room over. The boxes today were filled with photo albums and other keepsakes, the value of which was only sentimental at best. I thumbed through the few photos scattered outside of the albums if only to see something outside of the murder house. Mostly landscapes and now and then Hazel and Walter would make an appearance, but the images were too recent to tell if Hazel had been a looker back in the day. I couldn't help but be curious.

I shoved the loose photos into an album. "Don't you think this home is a little big for your things?" The majority of the unpacking was done and the house seemed empty still; bare of the traces of occupancy from a glance. I waited for a reply but her hearing wasn't too good it seemed and I raised my volume a bit. "Why did you move here?" She obviously didn't need the space and a house like this even without the other residents would be a burden to upkeep.

She came in from the kitchen and handed me a floral plate of sugary cookies with a warm smile before answering. "The location was right. It'll be much easier for me to visit my son here." She replied simply and took a photo album out of the last box in the room and moved it over to the shelf. "I had some good years with him, when he was younger, but kids get into so much trouble as teenagers." She paused for a moment before continuing the thought. "It's been a very long time since then; better late than never I suppose."

I couldn't help but smirk at the statement. I've caused enough trouble for a lifetime – and in this afterlife as well. "I know what you mean."

* * *

(Violet's pov. The night before.)

It was late, pitch black. I missed being able to flip the lights on and off as I pleased. With the living came limitations. The simplest gesture or change in the home would bring terror to them no doubt. It made the solitude seem heavier. Granted I brought much of it onto myself, pushing away the majority of the permanent guests. The living were never much better.

I heard whistling coming from downstairs. The same tune I'd heard from him again and again over the years. It would grip onto me and get stuck in my head for days at a time, wandering through my voice like a forbidden curse in times of weakness and loneliness. I heard the heaviness of boots hit the stairs and mingle with the tune. I didn't know whether to lock my door or stay as still and silent as I could. While he had left me alone for a long time, I made sure not to provoke any instance of his company. It got louder and louder and with a sudden stillness the monster came.

"Violet" he whispered through the door with a back knuckle knock. I stayed still, holding my breath in dead lungs. He waited for a moment and continued "I know you're in there." His voice was uneven and upset this time. The door knob twisted and I inhaled ready to call those awful words but my breath was caught at the sight of him. He stood in the doorway shirtless, with his strong chest on his display glistening with sweat the button of his jeans was undone and his boots were loosely laced adding to his height. His golden blond hair covered his wild eyes. They were bloodshot and lost in some distant place, unfamiliar to me.

"What do you want?" I asked coldly folding my arms with a stern expression. I hoped that my tone would be enough to make him turn around. I wasn't about to deal with his affections and apologies.

He stared blankly with a reoccurring twitch in his hands. "You're so small." He replied curiously as if seeing her for the first time.

"What?" I replied stupidly not expecting him to say that in the least.

"You're small and you'll be small forever." He scratched at his neck and started to make his way over to me. "I'll always be bigger than you. Isn't that funny?" He asked light heartedly.

"What the fuck Tate." I replied dismissively hoping to deter his advancing movements. Instead he looked at me amused with himself and sat on the edge of the bed.

His amused expression turned into something dangerous. Was this the monster I've been waiting to come out? He started to move toward me and I found my voice. "Go A-" I tried to call out but he put his hand over my mouth and climbed onto me.

"No!" Tate replied sternly with distant teary eyes. "You're not allowed to do that anymore." He bent over with his hand plastered to my mouth and laid his head onto my shoulder. He was wet with sweat and his skin was burning hot against mine. I hit and clawed at his back with my small hands but he didn't seem fazed by my protests. He instead nuzzled into my shoulder for some comfort and closeness. I continued and he began to make low grumbling moans. I thought that I had hit him just hard enough to impact him until he groaned "I think I'm gonna be sick." He rasped, gagging into the crook of my neck. I took this chance to bite his hand while he was distracted with some sickness and tried to push him off of me.

He didn't budge and I felt an intense panic rise in my chest. My heart started beating frantically against his sweaty flesh. "I'm not going to let you do to me what you did to my mom" I cried out thrashing against him. My nails dug into him marking his body in red. Tate remained unmoving and looked at me carefully while I continued to panic against his embrace.

His heavy stillness broke while I tried to catch my breath, small fists slowing down. "Don't you dare say that!"

"Don't touch me Tate!" I cried back angrily.

His face fell, and his grip loosened. "I would never hurt you Vi I just missed you." He whispered sadly. As soon as his clarity and sadness came it fell from his face and what looked back at me seemed displaced and lost "I want you to tell me a story Violet." He whispered as sweat droplets fell onto my face. He paused to scratch his neck again with viciously bitten nails.

"You're hurting me, get off!" I said struggling against his weight.

He looked at me with a distant curiosity, unfazed by my protests. "You're so small violet. I'm bigger than you and you can't do anything." He smiled with childlike sweetness as though he had told me the rules to his game, but his body pushed into me threateningly. His boots were heavy on my legs, scraping against my skin as he moved closer into me.

The terror rose in me "GO-" before I could finish he crashed his hand onto my mouth at full force to silence me. Too hard. He seemed to forget his strength. My head slammed into the bed and my eyes widened, shocked, and tearing up with the taste of pennies brushing against my tongue. He seemed to jolt back to himself and his unfamiliar glazed eyes widened with worry. He pulled his hand back and stared at the blood from my lip that had been cut against my teeth.

"Don't cry Violet" he whimpered sinking his head into my chest and hugging me tight to him. "I didn't mean to hurt you I'm so sorr-" He tried to apologize but began to retch into my shirt. My hands covered my face for protection. "I don't feel good…" he said slowly before bile came from his flushed face, hair dripping with sweat. It covered his mouth and my shirt and he jumped off the bed feeling more sickness coming.

I shrieked and ran for the door but his heavy boots kicked it closed with an echoing bang.

"STOP LEAVING ME!" he screamed a pleading sadness. I tugged at the knob but he grabbed my arm pulling me toward the bed again. I lashed out throwing myself away from him and hit the chalkboard cracking it. He was bigger than me. Even at my best I couldn't fight against his strong hold and I began to sob. I cried again as I had in the bathtub letting my body go limp a light dead weight for him to carry.

"Don't cry Violet It's just too hot. That's it! Don't cry" He stopped by the window instead and dropped me to the floor. He went to pull it open and started to dry heave instead. I scrambled to my feet and the door crashed open.

Ben barged through in a rage and grabbed Tate by his golden hair pulling him up from his doubled over state. "Stay the fuck away from my daughter you monster." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"But I love her" he whimpered like a beaten dog.

Hayden was out in the hallway like a vulture as I ran past her and down the stairs looking desperately for a place to hide away from Tate. In a panic I crawled into the space below the kitchen sink. There was a long moment of silence in the smallness of the space and the smallness of my body. I was left holding my knees close trying to remain still as discomfort crept into my pose.

"Stay away from my family Tate" I heard Ben call. It was his last effort, knowing that any physical involvement would end worse for him. Looking at Tate it was obvious that he wasn't himself, surely Ben could tell as well.

and the familiar tune and the heaviness of boots came.

"She just doesn't understand you" Hayden cooed to Tate.

Their footsteps became distant as they left to the yard and I was alone again.


End file.
